


All the Things I Never Say

by ZenGwyn



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9852863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZenGwyn/pseuds/ZenGwyn
Summary: The Doctor's gone from Rose's life for good, or is he? Story of despair from the perspective of the Tenth Doctor, as he periodically revisits Tentoo and Rose on Parallel Earth, getting himself involved with lives whose fates are sealed. Told in first-person point-of-view in present tense, starting immediately following Planet of the Dead. Character death warning.





	1. Chapter 1

I am fine. Just _bloody_ peachy. And for some reason, there's something wrong with that, but I can't quite put a finger on it. Maybe I'm too tired, or just too damned old. Or just too indifferent. It doesn't matter anymore, does it? Life, death, loss—all parts of my unending existence in this _sodding_ universe.

Danger seems to find me everywhere, and sometimes I can save the day. Be the hero, gleaming from battle. Sort of like today. There's always a cost, though, and sometimes it's saving the life of someone who truly does not deserve it.

I think I'll go away for a while, let these people fend for themselves. I need a break from all this noise in my head. The blackness in my hearts. Need to feel some semblance of joy again, or else what is there for me to live for?

I've lost everyone I ever actually cared for well enough to be a part of their lives for more than a fleeting moment.

* * *

I've been tinkering lately, figured that since Time Lords of Old could jump between parallel dimensions it's not out of my grasp. I am a genius after all. Didn't realize it would take so long, but my Old Girl helps. I'm sure she knows where I intend to go, and she always reveals the exact locations of the exact pieces I need to make this thing.

This blasted machine sitting in front of me that I just…can't… **FIX**. It doesn't matter how focused I try to be, how intently I work on it or how badly I need to see her one more time, I simply cannot make this stupid hunk of junk in my lap work. In my exasperation, I throw it across the console room. And then, it activates.

Lights up like Christmas, and in a nanosecond I'm dashing across the room, snatching it up. It's shaped like a football, round with bits of gears and wires sticking out of it. A monitor half its size is attached to the top and reads one simple command in blue against the black screen.

**ENTER COORDINATES**

I wire the last few bits into the console and secure my new device to it. Then, with shaking hands, I type in the coordinates to that dimension, to that Earth, to that city. London. 2009. In retrospect, maybe I shouldn't show up so soon following my departure. My self-imposed abstinence of the pink-and-yellow girl and simultaneous abandonment of her could still be… a tender issue. Instead, I type in 2016. There, not too far off but definitely not so far into the future that she'll have… well, forgotten me.

Now to start the TARDIS up and press ENTER. My hands sweat and shake, my hearts beat double their normal speed. No, make that triple. Part of my mind is screaming for me to NOT do this. To NOT disrupt what I have already locked away. I pull my fingers through my overly-neglected brown hair, making it stick up in ways never achievable by conventional means.

You know what? Sometimes you just have to leap. Allons-y!

* * *

After several minutes of sheer terror, while the TARDIS cycled through periods of lurching, groaning, and shaking so violently I thought I'd be permanently cross-eyed, I sit upon the floor of the console room, deciding whether I should risk opening the doors.

Blast! Why is this so hard?

Well that's obvious, I tell myself aloud, you're afraid. You've ruined every change you've had at happiness with her and basically stepped aside so a braver man than you could take your place.

In my mind's eye, I see her smiling at him, sticking her tongue through her teeth and squinching her nose in that adorable way. I see a little version of her, my pink-and-yellow girl, gripping her mum's hair, babbling nonsensical words, hugging them both.

The Other Me. The Me that was human… mostly.

I can see them at their most intimate; naked and writhing. That sparks a fire inside of me that spends most of its time buried underneath my despair and guilt. It should be me. I should be tasting her tongue, feeling her body underneath mine, panting as my face rests upon her bosom. Listening to her heart beating. Smelling her shampoo. Loving her as she loved me.

_I must see her._

I stand, step over to the doors, and grasp the handles. Despite my wavering resolve, I open the doors to a beautiful, sunny morning, occasionally obscured from view by a passing Zeppelin. I've landed at the edge of a small wood, the TARDIS doors opening into a grand garden. Trees in full green are strewn among beds of flowers like a rainbow to my eyes. Bushes line a stone path that winds between the beds, finally coming to rest at the French doors of a white cottage covered in vines. Blooming blue flowers randomly speckle throughout the vines, and if I let my eyes blur, it sort of resembles the TARDIS.

 _How quaint_ , the darker side of my inner self sneers sarcastically.

Mostly, I'm in awe. It's one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen, and definitely not in London. At least not the one I remember. Maybe I'm outside the city? Must be, this much green is not easy to find in a bustling city.

One of the doors open, and I quietly stand my ground, observing, the TARDIS and myself slightly hidden by the garden's mass of foliage. A small face surrounded by a thick tuft of brown hair timidly pokes out the cottage's entrance, followed by that of a little yapping Yorkie. The rest of this tiny boy, of no more than six years in age, gives chase to the equally small dog. The child's laughter rings in the air like that of…

It's her…

For a moment, I stop breathing. She steps into view, and leans against the door frame, tasting what I can only imagine is tea from an oversized white mug. Her yellow hair blows in long wisps with the breeze. Flowing around her, a baby pink ankle length dress gently enhances her curves. Oh, those curves. She smiles at the giggling boy, who runs to hug her once he spots her standing in the sunlight. She moves to place the mug on a small round table to her right just as the boy gladly wraps his arms around her waist.

This is too much.

Tears swell at the corner of my eyes, but I force it down. I can feel my hearts ache to touch her skin, kiss her lips, stand within the light that emanates from her, but I bury it deep. I need to see this, to remember why I continue my thankless existence.

She steps back within the darkened rooms of the cottage a few minutes later, followed closely by the boy and his pet. The door closes.

* * *

After a deep breath, I reenter the TARDIS desperately needing a distraction from the creeping sadness that threatens to take over my mind. Coordinates home placed, and TARDIS engaged, I head for home. For a planet, any planet, that wouldn't remind me of Rose will suit my hunger for a thrill. Maybe Mars?


	2. Regret

You would think that if, when certain painful death is staring you in the face, humans would choose to live. But no. I'm confounded by the self-destructiveness of this species. Always at war, always destroying, like a virus that replicates and spreads, then annihilates themselves and everything around them. It's so… obnoxious.

Of course, I am compelled to save them when I should just walk away. And when I actually manage to save a life that history deems otherwise, that life is taken by its own hand. Or own gun in this case.

Oh, how I loathe guns. A useless piece of equipment in the long run, solves momentary problems with death and creates more problems in the end.

Heart break, sorrow, hate, fear… and death.

I must see light again. It's a hunger creeping forward from deep within me, my obsession with seeing light once again, when all around me there is nothing but the black. But, as is all things I want in this universe, risks are costly, mostly to myself. Her face illuminates my nightmares, and for a short time, I actually slept. Instead of being haunted by her tears, her smile hovers over me like the bright yellow sunlight of spring. But the longing deep within my hearts grows painfully each day I'm not within the spectrum of her presence.

I'm devoting all of my waking hours to finishing my little device. The work needed to complete the Interdimensional Jump Drive (yes, I named it) has taken close to a month, and I'm sure the kinks are worked out.

Well, mostly.

Well, some of them anyway.

This time I should be able to locate a person in another dimension, anywhere they are, at any point in time, and transport the TARDIS there without overloading her, and without using her engines at all. Just a quick pop into another dimension and BAM.

Right location, right time, right person.

Hopefully without mucking up the timelines too much. Well, I suppose even if I did, there's no one out there to stop me, is there?

Coordinates set. Here we go. The TARDIS lurches a little, the IJD buzzing maniacally for a moment then suddenly the TARDIS shudders her landing. I let go of my death grip on the console and check the monitor. Six months after my last visit, I have arrived.

* * *

The TARDIS is four homes down from her, and around a corner. Its night, an overcast sky, and most of the homes here are dark. Perfect. I can stand within a closer proximity without being seen this time. I should be able to hear her voice, smell her scent without her even knowing I was there.

 _My Rose_.

I step from within the confines of my timeship, and begin my stroll through lovely suburbia, using my keen senses to remain alert should anyone unexpected be about. So far, so good. Most of these humans are asleep. As I round the last house, I see lights up ahead. A car is creeping my direction so to the nearest dark space available, I dash. I'm pinned in a small piece of yard divided in half by a fence separating her house and the neighbours. I just so happened to be crouched below a window on Rose's side, and I'm cursing my carelessness.

I could have been spotted!

I listen closely for an indication of trouble, but only hear two voices and the slam of car doors. The cab whisks away. I'm in darkness again.

Suddenly a lamp in the room clicks on and I hear her voice. Drunk. Giggling. Happy. Longing pounds in time with my hearts' beating. I dare to peek through the window from the side, and there she is. My hearts stop. I can't breathe. She is… stunning. Undressing before me is a goddess, her skin still the color of milk, covered in beautiful pink flush. Removing her underclothes, pulling a nightie and fresh panties from her dresser, so exposed and so… unaware.

I am right here. I am close enough that were there no glass between us, I could reach out my hand and touch her soft skin. I thank my Timelord physiology for the lack of reaction to her… nakedness.

Another voice, deep and so much like mine, grows closer as he enters the room. The Other Me. The one who would grow old and die. The one who could be hers. The one without the continued existence of the universe on his shoulders. He leaps onto their bed, pinning her below him.

I wanted to do that so many times.

He kisses her, softly at first, then long, deep, and slow. She reciprocates, barreling her tongue into his mouth. Rassillion, this is almost like watching my own dreams unfold before me. Her nakedness, the surprise "attack", the closeness, the feel of her tongue inside my mouth. I've wanted all of it for so unbearably long.

Before my brain has time to register, he has entered her, and I'm witnessing their intimacy. He is so close, kissing her neck and chest gently as he gives himself to her. Loving her in this most familiar way. Lazy, slow, taking his time. Just the way I would have.

That should be me. It would be timeless. Beautiful. Slow. Intimate. Passionate. Instead of calling him "Baby" when she climaxes, she would be screaming my name.

Screaming "Doctor".

Screaming the name only I know.

Whispering in my ear instead of in his. Curled up in my arms, wrapped in blankets, completely at ease.

I need her back. If she is happy with him, she would be even happier with me.

I am still standing there as he leaves her sleeping form, pulls on his trousers, and exits the room, turning off the light. I hear the door to their garden open and close, so I wait just a moment, deciding if I should leave. Then, as if he knows I'm standing there, he whispers into the darkness, "Why?"

I freeze. Hold my breath. Cease the movement of all parts of my body that could be detected. Did he know I was there?

"Why did you leave us here? Now I have no way to communicate with you. To tell you how much she's going to need you soon. To bring you back."

Wait, what?

"I wish I could tell you everything you never knew about her before there was me. I wish you could be here to help me find a way to save her."

 _No_.

"I just want to save her life, and I can't do it with these mediocre tools and bits of tech they have here. I can't do it. Why would you leave and not give us a way to call you back? We need you, Doctor. She needs you. I just don't have the means to stop this from happening to her."

_**No.** _

I dare to quietly move to the edge of the wall, and look around the corner at him. He's seated in a chair with some kind of human beer in his hand, looking up at the stars between sips. His elbows rest upon his knees, and just before he speaks again, he glances around the garden. Tears rim the edges of his eyes and glisten in the moonlight.

I am compelled to step forth from my shadow, shouting "The Doctor is here to save the day!" but before there is even a chance for me to do so, he speaks again.

"I don't have a life as long as she isn't in it." He takes a long swig from the bottle and stands. Gazes one more time into the night sky, opens the door, and enters the home. I can hear him pad through the bedroom. He enters it, and I hear the bed creaking with his weight. I make a decision, but in making it, I've broken my hearts all over again. I'll save her, but not for myself. Not this time.


	3. Running

'M running. I always do but this time... This time urgency is a million Daleks hot on my tail chanting that old, exhausted phrase. I need to escape, hide, scream into the darkest recesses of every hidden corner within my oldest friend.

As if on queue, she flings her doors open and I find myself wandering. I've put twelve holes in various places before my knees buckle and I'm cursing the entirety of the universe at the top of my lungs. My hands bleed, matting my hair in red as I tear through it.

Universe be damned, this is not how her story ends. With all the near-misses in her story, this is not how she gets to go. No. This can't be happening.

I stand on shaky legs and wander, begging my Old Girl to find a place for me to hide, but as she always manages, she found the place I needed. It's a brown wooden door, nondescript, and very neglected. I've avoided this exact spot for too long, and I feel her press me to open the door. Slowly, mechanically, I reach for the handle and turn.

I am inundated by stale perfume and warmth, a comfort I'd not felt since she left.

Since I sent her away. 

Since I became the horse's arse that couldn't tell her the truth.

Since I abandoned her.

Her pillows are still bunched in a corner, clothes erupting from luggage on the floor. Her pink jumper carelessly dangling off the arm of a chair and teasing me.

I am on autopilot, letting my fingers trace the foot of the bed, reaching for the nearest fluff of downy softness, wrapping it in my arms. I sigh, defeated, letting it drop to the floor. In my peripheral vision, I see a box I never noticed before resting atop a stack of old gossip magazines.

Before I know what I'm doing, I'm holding it between my hands. The lid is... I don't know where... Her face is smiling up at me. Not me, the timeless man studying this photograph, but the man with an arm around her shoulders, all big ears and broody eyes. I remember...

I was distracted. There was something odd about the elderly man who was selling balloons to children from a cart thirty yards away. He looked so familiar, the way he tapped the side of his nose. Couldn't place it. His movements were too human but, not.

So wrapped up in my mind, I didn't realise Jack had snapped this picture on his mobile. She must have had it printed. It was the last trip to London before... Before the version of myself in this image became the version of myself holding it.

It hits me in the face like Jackie's slap. She loved me then. I'm such a useless, blind old fool. I manage the lid, turn and, with renewed determination, retrace my steps. Under one arm, that box is tucked away. Safe.

I ignore my Old Girl tickling at the back of my mind. I approaching the exit, confident that I will simply knock upon their door, sling Rose Tyler over my shoulder and drag her, kicking if necessary, to the Med inside the TARDIS where my Old Girl will help me figure out how to fix her.

I can do anything! I am a Time Lord! I am...

The box drops from the safety of my coat. I am holding open the door, but in the cold early morning air, with crossed arms and eyes identical to mine, stands my duplicate. Older, greying, smile lines more prominent. Clothed, this time. "I knew the air felt different. How did you get here?"


	4. Resolution

The TARDIS heads for home, and I am a willing passenger, numb from the last several hours. Everything replays in my mind...

* * *

He stood cross-armed just outside the doors of the TARDIS. Greying at the temples, receding hairline, miniscule lines around his mouth and eyes. "I knew the air was different. How did you get here?"

I should have just turned back and slammed the doors. I should have done a hundred other things. I dropped my arms. "I figured out a way." I didn't bother trying to hide the poison in my voice.

"What did you see?" I can hear the exhaustion in his voice. A tiny plea or hope that I wasn't a witness to anything over the last few hours.

Suddenly I couldn't look at his face. My eyes darted up and away, barely containing a flood. I breathed deeply through my nose before I responded. "More than I should've."

His head cocked to the side and one eyebrow jumped into his forehead. I let slip things I'd seen into his mind...

Their naked bodies moaning in the dark. His face covered in moonlight pointed toward the stars, light glinting off the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, one arm still crossed under the other and his eyes now obstructed from view by one hand. "Then you know."

"Not everything."

I tried to contain it, shut it all off. I tried to give my voice a neutrality I didn't feel. The anger bubbling up inside quickly replaced my moment of heroic determination.

Again, he sighed. I could feel him gently nudge my mind. Not fully Time Lord telepathic, but more than a regular human is capable of. I opened my mind to him and quickly realised his control over his own abilities.

Images and emotions began to flood me, like watching a film from the main character's perspective but skipping ahead to the interesting parts.

_Walking through a door to find a screaming toddler and Rose unconscious, collapsed on the floor. The tea kettle on full alarm and red hot as I, without thinking, grab it off the stove and throw it into the sink. Picking the wailing babe up from the floor, trying to calm him while I dial for emergency services._

_A doctor in a white lab coat telling me that my wife has a disease they've never seen before. Its impossibly rare and unfortunately there is no known way to treat it. They don't even have a name for it._

_Watching from behind glass screen as technicians take blood, run her for tests, and put her under enormous amounts of stress. All I am aware of is her gentle smile, comforting gaze, and beautiful blonde waves that roll down her back and across her shoulders while she makes easy conversation with them._

_Listening to her vomit in the middle of the night from the opposite side of the door, followed by her choking sobs, and realizing there is nothing I can do._

Suddenly the visions swam and ceased, and soon flooded with desperation, terror and hearts-wrenching sadness.

"Please, help her," his mind begged.

I placed my right hand upon his shoulder and nodded. There were no words in my mind, just a torment of unchecked emotion. I turned, finding a portable medical scanner in a crate under the grates by the doors. I reappeared soon after, closing the doors behind me, and he whispered, "thank you."

I followed him home.

Without a sound, I followed him to the room that still contained her sleeping form. I leaned forward, centimetres from her face, so peaceful and quiet. I saw all of the damage done so clearly now, even in the dimly lit room. She was dying, slowly.

I scanned her from the tip of her head to the end of her toes. It began processing data immediately. The Other Me approached from behind, handing me a hot mug of tea. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. No hope left in his face, just a battered man trying to enjoy the last of the time he had with someone he loved.

I sipped quietly, anxiously awaiting the results. A thousand possibilities pounded in my brain. Everything I knew about human biology and medical science from many worlds, including my own, didn't seem to fit symptoms.

Early on, vomiting. Then muscle deterioration. Loss of color and drastic weight loss. Dark circles under the eyes. Slight, almost undetectable rattle in the lower lungs. Stiffness in the joints. Unpredictable loss of consciousness. Liver and kidney function deteriorating.

The scanner signaled it had reached a conclusion. I lifted it to my face, reading the results. Not good. I motioned to the door with my head. He led the way to a table in the small kitchen. Silence closed in like a thick fog. I slid the scanner across the table to him, but he avoided looking at it.

Just stared into the empty cup.

Neutrality found my voice again. "It's my fault."

His eyebrows furrowed, the weariness in his eyes replaced by anger. "What?" He looked at the scanner, reading the results himself. His face fell. "Mine as much as yours," he mumbled.

If she hadn't tried jumping between dimensions, looking for me, this wouldn't have happened. Residue from being in through void hundreds of times without shielding had infiltrated her body, slowly shutting her organs down. A cancer that cannot be seen. That can't be cured.

I stood, claustrophobic at this little table, in this little house, in this stupid little reality. I couldn't look at his face. Just the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Anything to stop tears from falling.

Within a few movements, I stepped out the door, "I'm so sorry" ghosting past my lips.

* * *

An alarm sounds, waking me from new memories I'll need to bury very very deep. Zygons. I suppose I could use a little distraction.

The kind with red hair and a crown, that may or may not be a Zygon impersonating the real Queen.

Exactly the sort of thing I need.


	5. Song has Ended

As complicated as my distractions tend to be, it could have been worse. Well, OK, I suppose it couldn't have actually been much worse. Save the Earth from Zygon attack, have a little help from friends. Interesting tidbit of information about my future. Good to know I still have a future. Still though...

Can't remember most of it, so what's the use in trying? Strands of thought sink into my memory, being absorbed in time. Never give up... Bad Wolf Girl... Bowties... Posh Grandpa... "I could kiss you"... Paintings... Bad Wolf...

Oh God I'm so thick!

Rose Tyler, Bad Wolf, Defender of the Earth. There must be residual time energy! That's why her body can't shrug off residue from the void- it isn't the amount of times she went through it, traces of time energy must be keeping her body from resisting it!

In minutes, I'm parking my Old Girl at the edge of the forest, the midday sun shining down in beams between branches. I barrel out the doors. I'm practically throwing myself across the field of bluebells, over the chain link fence surrounding the Other Me and Rose's back garden, through flowerbeds and grass. I don't stop at those French doors. With a quick, fluid flick of the wrist they're open and I'm inside that claustrophobic kitchen.

It's empty. I race from room to room and discover that it's completely without a human presence. I rifle through letters and packages searching for any information on this family's whereabouts. Inside a small open box haphazardly neglected on the floor in the sitting room I find my answer.

A photograph and accompanying letter. I've got them in my hands, the framed photograph of Rose, in hospital gown, proudly holding a tiny babe, red and squealing, and a crinkled letter that reads:

" _John,_

_I am so terribly sorry for the loss of your dearest Rose. I can't even wrap my mind around this, and my heart is breaking. I know everything I feel is nothing by comparison to what you're experiencing._

_As per your request for our attendance at the service this Saturday, yes, Ianto and I will come. If you need anything at all, please call._

_I'd saved this framed photo as a gift for your boy, but in light of Rose's passing, we thought to give it to you instead. I hope it's not too much. As you know, I don't know how to handle these situations._

_In any case, we love you all and will see you at CrossRoads Cemetary at four._

_All our love, Jack._ "

Good lord what day is it?! Saturday, and I have ten minutes. I am running faster than I ever have before. My hearts burn but I force my legs to move. It's all I can do. The cemetary is a few metres away, and I see a crowd gathered near several tall willow trees.

I turn in on the foot path, dart between cars, and reach the very top of a small hill.

His face looks decades older. His beard unkempt, greying along the jaw. He stares ahead, red rimmed eyes glassy and unfocused. He clutches the hand of a boy on the verge of manhood, who looks so much like his mother despite the floppy brown hair.

I drop to the ground. I should run. This is an invasion. I could have stopped this.

Everything I have ever buried with regard to my pink and yellow human hits me like a runaway train. Her hair billows in the breeze, she brushes it back behind her ear and smiles at me. That tongue-touched smile reserved only for me. Her hand in mine. The taste of her lips, her skin. Her laugh, so infectious I could never stop myself from joining in. The glow about her.

I've found my way meandering down the path, and I stand behind the right shoulder of my duplicate. My left hand rests upon it. He looks back and we lock eyes. He thanks me without speaking for being here.Curious looks from the crowd are utterly ignored.

The priest asks if anyone would like to speak. Many grief-stricken faces make their way to stand next to her grave marker over the next hour. They speak of their love of this precious woman, her life with Torchwood, her strength following the passing of her mother and then soon after, her father. Her courage in light of her untimely fate.

Jack tells an anecdote of how Rose became his best friend, by shaking her head at his incessant flirting and encouraging him to ask his assistant, Ianto, out for coffee. This Jack is apparently not much different than my Jack at home.

There is a long pause.

I step up to the side of Rose's casket, resting my hands there for only a moment before I let my big fat gob get on with it. "I know none of you know me," I announce, standing up again, adjusting my tie, gazing upon the box containing her body. "I'm John's brother, James." I glance back and he nods. "Rose and I traveled together, for years. She was... She was a woman like no other. Brave. Honest. Just."

I chuckle, "She had no problem delivering a slap, and I deserved it every time, I'll tell you." My voice catches in my throat, "I loved her."

Breathing deeply in through my nose, I attempt to continue. I stop fighting tears, stop putting on a brave face. I know my lips are quivering and I look a fool, but I've stopped caring. "Rose was the one person in the universe I could trust with my life, even more than myself. She was the bright star in the blackest night. She gave me a reason to live again. And even though I left her behind, I lost her, some part of me knew deep down I'd see her again." A slight smile crosses my lips. "And I did! That determined woman that I lost found me. That's the thing with Tyler women, they never give up. They never give in." That smile grows, seeing affirmations on the other faces in the crowd.

I look over to the Other Me, and he's smiling, too. His face is horribly red and his eyes wet and puffy, but he's grinning proudly. His eyes lock with mine. "I knew, when I finally had to bring her home, that I couldn't stop travelling. That I couldn't stop being a doctor or stop helping people. I couldn't put her before all of that. I couldn't give her the kind of life that she deserved, or return the sort of love she had for me. I knew she needed a man like you. You are the sort of man I could never be, and I'm so happy she had the chance to love you and be loved by you." I turn to face my other self, holding out my hand.

He takes it and whispers, "Thank you."

"No," I reply, "Thank you."


	6. Epilogue

I've decided to say goodbye. I know, putting off regeneration is dangerous, but out of everyone I've ever loved, saying goodbye to her just seems...

Right.

I'm standing in the shadows, waiting for a glimpse when I hear Rose and Jackie arguing as they come through the estate. It's snowing. It's cold. But inside, I'm on fire. _Push it back_! It hurts so much a groan escapes my lips. Maybe she didn't hear..

"You all right, mate?"

Oh, hell. "Yeah," I barely choke out a reply.

"Too much to drink?" The look of skeptical amusement on her face is priceless and so very Rose. So many things I want to tell her. There's just too much to say. Maybe this isn't the regeneration, just my hearts breaking again.

"Something like that."

"Maybe it's time you went home." She sounds a little worried. Bless her big heart. Bless everything about her.

"Yeah." I'm the biggest sod in the universe.

Then she smiles.

That big grin that lights up her whole face that was once upon a time mine blossoms across her face. "Anyway, happy new year."

"And you."

She nods, and turns, walking away. Hugging the warmth to her body like armour. No, don't go Rose, don't...

I take a breath. "What year is this?"

Rose whips back chuckling, " Blimey, how much have you had?" I shrug it off, muttering, "Well..."

"2005, January the first."

"2005?"

She nods, looking at me like a nutter. I'm fighting it all off. I can't lose it, not now. Not after I've come so far. "Tell you what," I reply as a grin creeps across my face, "I bet you're gonna have a great year."

She shares her smile my way, "Yeah?" A moment goes by when she's thinking about it and we just sort of exist in a freeze frame of companionable silence. "See ya."

And she's gone, dashing into the building and up the stairs. The grins stays as she goes.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:  
> Yes, I know it wasn't very long.When I started writing this story almost a year ago I had an idea in mind and sort of lost my Muse. However, I recently started re-watching the Ten Specials and ideas sort of started flowing. Instead of becoming a multitude of observations it became a series of "lost episodes" chronicling where the Doctor went between each special, and why, in my opinion, his mental state seemed to grow more unpredictable and darker as it went on. I even included the 50th in this, since it seemed an appropriate "escape" that this Doctor who runs away, especially from his emotions, would take.  
> Anyway, feel free to suggest ways to improve this or send prompt ideas. Currently tossing ideas around for other stories.  
> Thanks so much for reading and sticking with it until the end. :)


End file.
